Scooby Doo and the Forgotten Crew
by Clara Lockhart
Summary: "I wish I'd never heard of ghosts, or phantoms, or Mystery Inc.!" Shaggy and Scooby are running away from a galloping ghoulie – again – and they decide that they would rather have never met the crew than have close encounters with monsters. A tale where the duo finally discovers the true meaning of being a part of Mystery Inc., written with a twist of Terry Pratchet-style wit.
1. Lucky Seven

Disclaimer: "Scooby-Doo" and all related characters, elements and indicia are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera.

**Chapter One – Lucky Seven**

A bedraggled dog with a blue collar and a rather scruffy man stumbled over their own feet in an attempt at what you might call running. You may or may not call it that; for the way their flailing limbs twirled in the air, you might think that the pair were dancing the cha-cha-cha, or some other physical exercise that if you had known the two, you would realise they would never partake in.

But, nonetheless, with their panic-stricken faces, they ran. And they ran fast (considering they had just eaten a Monster Meal from the cute little inn they had found on the corner).

"Why is it always _me_?" the shabby man shouted, his shoes sliding on the mud. It would have been rather a pleasant jog if it weren't for the fact that he had never taken ice-skating lessons.

The dog replied indignantly: "_Rhat rarout re_?" He dug his claws in to stop himself from skidding on the wet ground, but this wasn't much use.

"All right, why is it always _us_? We wind up going to some creepy place where someone's being haunted by a ghost…"

"Reah!" the dog replied, liking where this was going. Complaining about creepy things was his third favourite pastime. After eating and hanging out with his best friend, of course.

They came to a rather run-down old building. The type you get ghosts of past-gone inn keepers who has come back to haunt that cheapskate who weaselled him out of a night's stay fee.

"And Fred ends up saying, 'Let's split up'…" the man continued, not bothering in his rage to notice the thundering footsteps – well, they would have been footsteps, if it weren't for the fact that whatever it was had no feet – that were getting nearer and nearer.

"_Reah_!" the dog replied enthusiastically. His collar jangled as he glanced wearily behind them. As much as he liked arguing about their rights as the scaredy cats of Mystery Inc., he couldn't help but feel that they wouldn't have any rights – or any _life_, for that matter – if the monster-phantom thing caught up with them.

"…And _we_wind up being chased by some galloping ghoulie!" he shouted, stumbling over some unkempt bushes in the front garden of the inn. "Like, this time the bodacious baddie has some sort of crazy weapon thing!" Indeed, the monster was wielding a mining pick expertly. It was, after all, a mining town.

"Rouble… uh, ripple reah!" the dog barked back. He ran up the crumbling stairs on lightning paws and watched as his companion clambered up behind him. A for sale sign was stuck over the doors – which, surprisingly, stayed upright despite years of neglect – and the man tried to rattle the handle free.

"Why couldn't we get involved with kids who chase after food festivals or bake-offs?" the man asked. He was on a roll. The dog had no answer to this, and instead stood back-to-back with the man in the green shirt to make sure the monster was more than ten feet away. He wasn't, because most dogs don't have an innate sense of distance (well, faced with death, most people wouldn't) but it made him feel better all the same.

"I wish I'd never heard of ghosts, or phantoms, or Mystery Inc.!" the man continued to rattle the handle fruitlessly. The monster was, the dog calculated, rather less than ten feet away now. He figured that seven was still a comfortable number. It rhymed with heaven too! Yes, seven was definitely a nice number.

He began to dream of the delectable, salty biscuit that was a Scooby Snack. He wondered if there were any in heaven. He wondered if heaven allowed dogs because, of course, some idiotic hotel managers thought dogs to be unclean. Something this dog definitely did not think of himself as.

He had little time to ponder this further as the ghoul was almost on top of them. The dog put his paws together, ready to meet his delicious doom.

And then… the floor fell in.

"_Ahhhhhhh_!" the man screamed.

"_Rooooooooooo_!" the dog howled.

Bits of rotten wood plunged with them into the darkness below. And with a spectacular crash, the pair fell head-first into a pile of assorted junk.

They lay there for a few seconds, groaning and trying to figure out what had just happened. The man sat up, a badminton racquet sticking out of his mustard-brown hair. The dog picked out pieces of a broken blind from his paws. A spasm rocked his hind leg that pushed on a half-dead radio that spluttered to life before fading. A shattered lava lamp lay on the floor, covering the wood with a sticky orange slime.

The man stood up, rubbing his back. He grabbed his dog by the paw, going up a nearby set of stairs. Unfortunately, the stairs were also rather rotten, and broke under his weight.

"Watch that first step, Scoob, it's a doozy! So like, where are we anyway?" his eyes were still adjusting to the dim light.

"Reepy rase-rent!"

"A creepy basement is no place for us! There's some light up ahead. Let's try that way!" he suggested, running towards the source of the light, dog in tow.

The passage led to the back door. Moonlight streamed through the window and illuminated the travel flyers pinned to the wall. The man tugged at the handle but it was locked tight.

"Scooby! Like, what are we going to do?"

Scooby wasn't listening. He had spied a set of dull keys hung up on the wall next to the posters. "Raggy! Rook!"

Shaggy waved a hand absentmindedly in Scooby's direction. "Not now, Scoob! I'm trying to think!" Which was a rare occurrence for him. He usually let Velma or Fred do the thinking for him.

Scooby rolled his eyes and jangled the keys in his companion's face. "Reys!"

Shaggy's eyes lit up. "Scoob! You're a genius!" The dog looked smug and handed the keys over. Shaggy shoved the first key into the lock and turned. Nothing. The second and third ones were the same. Zip. Nada. Fourth? Zero. Fifth? Completely useless. Sixth? Shaggy was getting nervous. He didn't know whether or not the ghoul had fallen in with them or not. He hadn't heard anything, but then again, phantoms had a rather annoying habit of sneaking up on you when you least expected it.

He tried the seventh one. It worked! Scooby gave him the thumbs-up sign as they opened the door and ran outside. Scooby decided that seven was definitely his new lucky number.

Just to be sure, Shaggy took the keys with him and locked the door behind them. He chucked the keys into the bushes before following his canine friend away from the creepy inn.


	2. A Quick Snack

**Chapter Two – A Quick Snack**

Scooby was very hungry by the time they reached the dirt road that led to the main town. "Raggy…?" he said pathetically.

"I'm hungry too, Scoob," Shaggy said, reading his thoughts. "But we like, have to report to the crew so that they can like, arrest the villain like they always do!"

Shaggy was sounding almost… responsible! But Scooby shook the crazy thought away when he added, "But I'm sure the gang won't mind if we like, have a small bite to eat! We can't function unless we have full stomachs, right Scoob?"

"Right!" Scooby agreed in the same heroic tone. It was very true, you know. The brave duo simply couldn't fight crime so valiantly without food. You had to get your energy from somewhere.

So they stopped at the same inn they had just come from an hour earlier. The innkeeper gave them a frightened look and gathered his entire working cohort to serve the pair.

"I'll have a double super macho chicken-cheese tower salad sandwich with extra chilli, a supreme pizza with the works, extra-large, a bowl of chips with garlic aioli, what sizes do they come in?"

The waitress was already stunned but managed to squeak, "Small, medium, large and Manhattan size, sir,"

"Great area, Manhattan! Yep, I'll have that one, and to finish off…" he cracked his fingers while skimming over the dessert menu. "Maybe a red velvet chocolate cake, how much is that?"

"$3.50, sir."

"Well, that's like, really cheap for a whole cake!"

"No, sir, that's for a slice," the waitress wobbled slightly. She feared what was coming next.

"Oh, no, I meant the whole cake! And, is that lamington slice? I haven't had that since like, our trip to Australia! All right then, you've convinced me, I'll have one of those too. And a mango lassi, they're like, delicious."

The waitress scribbled on her notepad frantically. She pushed her hair behind her ear and re-read what she had written. The order covered three pages. "Is that all for today, sir?" She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ro!" Scooby piped up. "Rye rorder roo!"

"You can't leave Scoob," Shaggy agreed.

The waitress felt faint.

Half an hour later, the waitress who had taken their order, with the assistance of two other waiters, heaved the towering sandwiches onto the table. The pizzas, the nachos, the chips, the cakes, the drinks and the condiments were all delivered. The innkeeper had quit, along with the vice manager and a waiter. Two customers had left because their appetite had been spoiled by the greed of the two shabby crime-fighters.

Shaggy and Scooby got to work immediately on their food, squirting chilli sauce over everything, including, much to the waitress' horror, the cakes.

They had just finished their lamingtons (with extra jalapeños) when Shaggy vaguely remembered their mission.

"Scoob, I think we should like, go and find the crew,"

Scooby slid off his chair sluggishly in agreement. After a few minutes of recovery, they walked – rather slowly – to the door.

The place where they had left Velma, Fred and Daphne was a little cottage on the far side of the village. It was a quaint place, tucked away behind rows of clipped pine trees.

"Daphne! Velma! Fred! We're back! We caught the monster! He's like, in the old abandoned inn at the edge of town!" Shaggy called out. He opened the door of the cottage and wiped his feet on the mat.

There was no reply. "Red! Raphre! Relma!" Scooby barked, not bothering to clean his paws. Warm air enveloped them and the smell of something delicious wafted over to the pair.

"Who are you? Get out of here!" a shrieking came from the far side of the house. Before Scooby knew what hit him, something hit him. By the way that his head was flattened into a rather circular shape, he deduced that it was a frying pan. Also, it smelled like Saturday's pancakes.

Shaggy bolted for the door, the woman wielding the kitchen utensil like a club. Scooby, slightly flat in the head department, followed suit and ran after his companion.

"_Ragggyyyyyyy_!" Scooby called after him.

"And don't you come back in here ever again!" the woman shouted, waving the frying pan around. Scooby glanced over his shoulder to see her figure slowly fading to a spec in the distance. Before he crashed into Shaggy, who had stopped to catch his breath.

"Scoob… like… where…" he panted. "Where is… where is everyone?"

"Rye dunno!" Scooby answered, baffled. That was Mrs Green, he was sure of it! The woman who had been looking after the crew ever since they had arrived a week ago.

They had officially lost the Mystery Crew.


	3. Soup for a Stranger

**Chapter Three – Soup for a Stranger**

Shaggy keeled over, his fall cushioned by Scooby. He certainly wasn't used to all this… what do you call it? Running. _Ugh_, he thought, _I like, dunno if I like this exercise thing…_

Scooby got to his paws, pushing Shaggy off in the process. Shaggy slowly rose, nursing his head. The dog walked past a few houses, peering in at the windows and ducking down before their occupants could see him.

Then suddenly…!

Nothing happened. But it happened suddenly, mind you!

Shaggy followed him. "Wait up, Scoob!" His clumsy footsteps echoed in the relatively quiet street.

Scooby rammed his nose up against the bitumen. He breathed in. He breathed deeply. So deeply in fact, his lungs screamed at him to let the air go. He did so, but fortunately he had already got the scent he was searching for. He let his sniffer search the area around the scent then followed the trail.

"What have you found, Scoob?" Shaggy caught up with him, interested.

"Ristery Rew!"

Shaggy smiled. "The Mystery Crew! Like, that's great, Scoob! Where does it lead?"

Scooby straightened up like a soldier at attention. He pointed a paw dutifully down the street. "Rat ray!"

They sped off in the direction Scooby's nose had indicated. And sure enough, there was Velma, Daphne and Fred sitting at the table, eating a hearty dinner. They were joined by a man and a woman that neither Scooby nor Shaggy recognised.

Scooby looked at Shaggy and they both shrugged before walking to the front door. Shaggy knocked while Scooby sat patiently on the front step.

When the door opened to reveal the man of the household, he said, "Hello, I'm Shaggy, and this is Scooby-Doo. I was wondering if we could come in? Those are our friends you have in there, see…"

The man stopped him. "Of course. My name is Mr Fluorite. Any friend of Fred is a friend of mine." He waved them in.

Shaggy and Scooby felt warmed by his kindness and stepped through to the dining room. Shaggy plonked himself on the chair in between Daphne and Fred. "Hey, Daphne! How you doing, Fred? We caught the monster, Velma, so you should be able to examine him like, very soon…"

"Reah! Rerry roon!" Scooby agreed, sitting on the seat next to Velma and ladling out some soup for himself.

"Excuse me?" Daphne's sharp tone caused Shaggy to splutter on his spoonful of soup.

"Well, I know you told us not to like, go looking for the monster, but like, he found us!" Shaggy protested. "This is delicious soup, by the way, Mrs Fluorite."

"Re round rus!" Scooby nodded, gobbling up the soup.

"Who are you?" Fred said, puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

Velma, meanwhile, was trying to get Scooby down from the table. "No. Bad dog. Down!" She frowned while pointing to the ground with her spoon.

"Relma?" Scooby asked.

Velma almost fell off her own chair in shock. "It… it talks! The dog talks! It said my name!"

"Ha ha, very funny guys," Shaggy laughed, taking another helping of garlic bread. He turned to Daphne. "Are you going to eat that, Daph? 'Cause, like, if you're not…"

"You have no idea who these people are?" Mr Fluorite spluttered.

Mrs Fluorite glared. "You let them in? You let strangers into our house?"

He was helpless. "They said they were friends of Fred!"

Fred shrugged. "I've never seen them before in my life!"

Mr Fluorite, under the watchful eyes of his wife, marched over to Shaggy. "I must ask you to leave. And take your dog too," he glanced over to his other half to make sure he had said the right thing. She looked pleased and he sighed with relief. It was going to be a cold one, and Mr Fluorite _really_ didn't want to spend another night in the barn.

Shaggy sent a look to Scooby. What on earth was going on? Did his three friends have concussion or something? It must have been a trick, Shaggy was sure of it. Although bringing two people that they didn't even know into it was a bit much. And Mrs Green with the frying pan… it seemed a little far to go for a laugh.

So Shaggy and Scooby were ushered out of the door and onto the veranda. They exchanged confused glances before walking off down the street at a slow pace. One more step, and Fred would call out after them. They would hear the laughter of Velma, Daphne, Mr and Mrs Fluorite. One more step.

But they had taken several steps, and still no sounds came from the house. No one tried to call them back, to welcome them into the warm depths of the house.

Scooby tried to come up with a rational explanation for it – seeing as though Velma was constantly telling him that there was _always_ a rational explanation for everything – but he came up with nothing. Besides, he wasn't used to this… _thinking_ business. The pair had always left that up to the other three.

So there was only one explanation.

The Mystery Crew had forgotten who Shaggy and Scooby were.


	4. Mac and Cheese

**Notes: Thank you all for your reviewing/favouriting/following/reading! A girl does appreciate these things. Anyway, I hope you enjoy chapter four! Au revoir, my lovelies.**

**Chapter Four – Mac and Cheese**

Shaggy and Scooby booked into a modest motel not too far away from the Fluorites' house. Shaggy plonked down onto the single bed while his dog curled up at the foot of the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the lazy fan go round, and round, and round, and round…

It was driving him crazy! He pushed himself off the bed and flicked the switch. The fan came to a halt and Shaggy, satisfied, lay back down on the bed.

He decided that he needed sleep. They say that everything looks better in the morning. His reasoning for this was that if you'd had a bad night, other people would take pity on you, and tended to make sure you woke up with a decent-sized breakfast in bed (Of course, this didn't happen if you were drunk, because you just woke up to a throbbing head and delicate senses). But he knew that this wouldn't happen. Although he couldn't help himself thinking of the gorgeously crisp bacon, the juicy tomato, the crunchy hash brown…

Shaggy was drifting in and out of sleep, apparently unaware that he was drooling heavily.

Scooby, on the other hand, was worrying profusely, contrary to his usual nature. He could tell, in his small doggy-dog brain, that this was big. Beyond anything, this was _weird_. Not that they didn't face weird things daily, being part of Mystery Inc. and all. But Fred, Velma and Daphne had always been there to make sure they were safe. Suddenly, he felt very distant from them; so close, yet so far away.

The next morning, at cockerel's wake (which was rather odd, since the village had never had a cockerel), the pair rose to the first rays of sun bursting through the pathetically thin curtain. Shaggy was depressed, although not overly surprised, that there was no breakfast in bed.

Much to his delight he discovered compensation; a tiny bar fridge that sat sadly in the corner of the kitchenette. Inside was a jug of milk, a jug of water, two frozen mac and cheeses and some butter. He shrugged. It was a start.

Meanwhile, Scooby had found the supply cupboard stocked with assorted teas, chocolates, and several items of cutlery and crockery. He ripped open a teabag with his claw and tipped it upside down to let it shower into his mouth.

Shaggy looked on in equal parts of confusion and excitement at the frozen pasta. There _were_ instructions…

"Hey, Scoob, how do you recon we make this edible? Scoob?"

Scooby was still spitting out the last of the tealeaves into the rubbish bin. He rinsed his mouth out with the jug of water before padding over to Shaggy. "Rac an reese!"

"Well, like, it's not mac and cheese yet, just a chunk of ice," Shaggy informed him. The dog's ears drooped. Shaggy picked up the handset next to the bed. "Room service? Yes, uh, we'd like to know how to use the mac-an-cheese thing, it seems to be frozen." He paused and Scooby listened intently. "Uh huh. Uh, right, we can like handle that. Yeah. Thanks!" he hung up, shrugging at Scooby.

"It can't be that hard, right Scoob?"

"Right!"

Shaggy watched on as the manager was taken away in an ambulance. He looked up at the towering pillars of fire that had engulfed the motel not that long after their microwave had exploded. He turned to his canine companion.

"Like, promise me one thing, Scoob?"

"Ranyfing, Raggy!"

"Let's not have mac and cheese ever again, alright?"

"Rever."

"Good. Well, like, let's find a new hotel."

"Right."

But all the motels and hotels and all other assortment of accommodation there were in the area had mysteriously closed. So the duo was forced to find shelter somewhere else. Namely, in the Fluorites' garage.

"It's like, creepy in here, Scoob," Shaggy complained.

"Reepy…" Scooby echoed.

"Ow! And there's a mop… it's sticking into me!"

And so Shaggy and Scooby spent the rest of the night in a dark garage that smelled of petrol. At least Shaggy _hoped_ it was petrol.


	5. A Half Eaten Chocolate Bar

**Chapter Five – A Half-eaten Chocolate Bar**

Shaggy and Scooby woke up to the sound of the garage door opening. The car rumbled to life and thankfully covered Scooby's soft whining.

"Shh, Scoob, you're going to give us away!"

Once the roller door started, uh, rolling back into place, the pair jumped up from their hiding place and tiptoed outside. They could see the car driving down the street and Shaggy caught a glimpse of Daphne's unmistakable hair through the car window.

"Come on Scoob, we can like, solve the mystery for them! Maybe then they'll remember us!"

"Reah!" Scooby nodded determinedly. The pair set off down the road in the direction of the abandoned inn to search for clues.

When they got there though, there was another mystery to be solved; the stairs were completely intact! Now, Shaggy reasoned, either, there was like, some really pedantic landlords around here, or there was some really like, _weird_ stuff going on.

Scooby didn't have any theories. He simply stayed well away from the stairs and tried not to think about it too much, just in case this caused them to break again.

Shaggy clambered onto the front veranda (without the help of the stairs) and thankfully the old wood stayed intact. If he was smart, he would have inspected the floorboards closer, and would have realised that they _hadn't_ in fact been replaced, and that this was the same wood that they had supposedly fallen through two days ago.

But Shaggy wasn't extraordinarily bright. He didn't have to be, with Velma, Daphne and Fred around to be bright for him. But without their light, he was rather lost. He thought of it like being in a dark tunnel of mysteries. If you didn't have a torch, then you didn't have a hope of finding your way, let alone search for clues. Shaggy was more like a dull glow in the dim cave, and Scooby, well, let's just say that Shaggy probably would have needed a pair of night vision goggles before he could even see his canine friend.

The door didn't look as untouched as it had the last time they had been there. In fact, one of them was ajar! "Hey, Scoob!" Shaggy whispered and beckoned for the dog to come carefully up to the veranda.

The two peered around the door and into the inn. The front desk was covered in a white sheet, the light fitting that hung from the ceiling was looking as if it had seen better days, cobwebs were strung from corner to corner, and everything was covered in a healthy layer of dust. Or unhealthy, depending on how asthmatic you are.

And there, in the middle of the room, was the last person Shaggy or Scooby would have ever expected. Notepad in hand, pen raised, was the waitress from the inn!

Shaggy raised an eyebrow at Scooby. "Like, what's she doing here?"

Scooby shrugged and whispered, "Rye dunno!"

She looked like she was taking an order from a customer – Shaggy wondered if she was lost – but then she took out a measuring tape and measured the length of the room.

Unfortunately, Shaggy shifted into a more comfortable position. This would have been fine normally, but the fact Scooby's tail was where Shaggy had put his foot made it definitely _not_ fine. And Scooby yelped. Rather loudly.

The girl spun around and caught sight of the duo. "Oh hello there!" she smiled. She paled. "You're not hungry, are you? I'm sorry, but the inn has closed down, and I don't have any food with me…" She rummaged around in her pockets and found a half-eaten chocolate bar.

"No, that's okay, Scoob and I just ate," Shaggy assured her. The girl sighed with relief. Scooby remembered fondly the meal they had shared just ten minutes before at the ice-cream parlour (you could argue that ice-cream wasn't exactly a meal, but if you had seen the portion sizes, then you would have decided otherwise).

"Like, so what brings you here?" Shaggy asked her.

"Well," she lowered her voice. "I heard there's a monster in town. And this inn is said to be haunted." She had a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Well, that's like, what Scoob and I were doing, right, Scoob?" Shaggy said happily. Scooby nodded.

She smiled. "My name's Katherine by the way," she pocketed the notebook and the measuring tape, but twirled the pen in her fingers. "But you can call me Kat."

"Well then Kat, I'm Shaggy and this is my dog Scooby-Doo." Shaggy pointed to Scooby.

Kat crouched down and rubbed Scooby behind the ears. "Hey there, buddy,"

"Rello!" Scooby barked.

She laughed. "He talks too! What a wonderful dog you are, Scooby-Doo!"

"You can call him Scooby for short," Shaggy informed her.

Kat nodded and stood back up again. "So what clues have you found so far?" she said enthusiastically.

Shaggy took a breath. "Well…" he lifted up his hand as if to count the clues. His mouth hung open for a few moments before he said, "Well, not any so far, but I'm sure we'll like, find some soon."

Kat laughed. "I'm sure you're better detectives then me. I'm just a waitress," she paused. "An unemployed waitress, but a waitress all the same."

"So what clues have you found?" Shaggy asked her.

She looked downcast. "None. I'm not really used to this detective business. Our town is so incredibly _boring_, I never get the chance to solve a case."

"Like, sometimes boring can be good. I wish our lives were boring sometimes," Shaggy said.

Kat didn't seem to be listening. "I wish I could live in Nancy Drew's town. I've read about her, you know. I'm not that much of a reader, but once I started I couldn't stop! I'm more of a sporty type, you know."

Suddenly, there was a clattering from upstairs. Kat looked up in alarm while Scooby jumped into Shaggy's arms. Kat put her finger to her lips and motioned for them to follow her up the stairs. The two Mystery Inc. members looked at each other and tiptoed after her.

Kat's dainty feet made no sound on the steps. Scooby was very quiet also, because his weight was distributed over four paws. Shaggy, on the other hand…

_Crash!_ Kat and Scooby swung around to see a Shaggy-shaped pile that covered three steps.

"Sorry," Shaggy whispered. Scooby rolled his eyes and Kat shook her head.

They were almost on the landing now. Kat crouched down so she could peer over the wood. She turned around and beckoned Shaggy and Scooby to follow. There was no sign of anyone suspicious, but there was a window wide open at the end of the hallway. The trio walked quickly over to it. Tatty curtains blew in the breeze as Shaggy leaned over out of the window.

He saw a rope dangling out of the window, tied at the end to a scruffy bed in the next room. But he couldn't see the person who had used the rope.

"He's like, escaapppppppedddddd!" the last word came as a scream because Shaggy had somehow managed to flip out of the window and was now falling to the ground that was two storeys away.

"_Shaggy!_" Kat called out frantically.

"Raggy!" Scooby howled in despair.

Kat shoved Scooby out of the way in her attempt to reach the stairs. "I'm coming, Shaggy!" She ran out the door, jumping over the veranda railing to get to the garden.

"Raggy?" Shaggy asked warily when he reached his friend.

"He'll be fine, Scooby, but he won't forget that fall quickly," Kat said. She helped Shaggy up from the bushes that had broken his fall. Unfortunately, it felt to Shaggy as if the bushes had broken more than that.


End file.
